sleach

Mm...

In the mirror, the hairdresser lifts a lock of the girl's hair between his fingers. Blade crosses blade, and in one go, the hair falls away from his hand.

The girl stares at the lock, fallen to the floor in a pile, and empties her mind, waiting for the scissors by her ears to snip a second time.

She waits a good moment, and it doesn't come.

Sir?

...Eh?

Why did you stop cutting?

Miss Saileach, news doesn't get around our parts as well as it does yours. You're from some big old company, you've a million channels open to you versus us run-of-the-mill folk. I wanted to... to ask...

That's alright, sir. If you need it, then of course I'll help you. What did you want to inquire about?

It's... no, it's not like that, I just wanted to ask—you lot see something out of sorts about the town, don't you?

What makes you wonder that...?

Why don't you tell me, Miss Saileach? Here you've come to get a haircut.

It's—a haircut, is all it is, sir.

Miss Saileach, isn't this the way you've always looked? What makes you want your hair short all of a sudden now?

I just... only have so much time and energy, I—I can't afford to mind this sort of thing...

Something's about to happen, isn't it?

I—I haven't had any info of the sort suggest that. Everything seems... fine for the moment.

No... that's lies you're telling, Miss Saileach. Be honest with me. Those Sarkaz are soon to come storming this way, aren't they?

I suppose you think we'd all be crushed by the truth, so you're keeping quiet from us, zipping your lips. That's it, isn't it?

Sir, I haven't hidden a single thing from any of you!

Okay... if things aren't turning for the worse, then why are you coming here for a haircut?!

Sir... don't get so worked up, please, can you—can you calm down?

You show up at mine today out of nowhere, asking me to lop off your hair, and apparently the shorter the better—you sound to me like you plan to cark it and spend the whole next life not even giving a <i>shake</i> that hair grows on your head.

No matter how miserable it's ever gotten, you've—you've never up and said you'd get a haircut, right, so what's making you get one today?

...Sir...

I'm sorry, I...

I think I'd best find the time to come another day, sir.

Mrs. Sheila?

Miss Saileach? What brings you around?

Nothing, I just came because I wanted a haircut. Work's been busy lately, and I can't find the time to sort it all.

Wait... Mrs. Sheila, are you wearing lipstick today? No wonder you look like you've perked up. This red really suits you.

I...

Saileach's praise doesn't seem to bring any delight to the woman, who hastily uses her own hand to wipe the carmine off her lips.

She then lifts a corner of her hem, and rubs the remaining dye from the back of her hand.

Her sheer vigor chafes the skin of her hand raw, yet the color just won't come fully clean.

Mrs. Sheila, wh—what are you...?

No, I was just going silly—as if this is any sort of time to be bringing out lipstick—when we've got even people living respectable lives like you losing the will to—... *sigh* This is awful.

If you'll... Miss Saileach, you'd better go on back to work, I'll—I'll just get myself home.

Mrs. Sheila...

Hm? Janie, weren't you going for a haircut? I was looking forward to seeing your new style, you know?

I—I booked a new time with the hairdresser's. I'll go back in a few days.

Good thing they didn't trim you, really, or you'd be hard-pressed putting this on.

A paper flower? Did you fold this?

As if I'd have hands that skillful. No, a little girl brought it by—she said she hoped you'd like it.

It's so pretty. Folding a flower out of such a thin napkin must've been incredibly hard for her.

Aren't you going to try it on and see? It must go great with your long hair.

I'm... getting it cut, soon enough... I'd just have gotten people's hopes up, wouldn't I?

That's a few days from now, isn't it? Seize the moment, go on, wear it... Just put it on and see, look how nice it's folded and all—as pretty as any real flower.

She puts the paper flower up to her nose and gently sniffs. Through the girl's eyes flashes a hint of enchantment.

Mmm... I think I can smell a flowery sort of scent from this... just vaguely...

Wil... it's not a real flower, no matter how much it resembles one...

I know that, but it's almost winter, spring's a long ways away, and it's not like there's any real flowers about right now...

No one says you can't admire the flowers again in spring, now. Winter has its own demands to meet.

But all that we do in winter's exactly so we can await next spring, you know.

In the long, long midwinter, even a tiny little paper flower can remind us all, spring'll come on time.

And without that paper flower...?

That I don't know, Janie... a paper flower's just a light in the dark, and no matter if we're with or without one, spring will come.

But even so, Wil, people are longing for the same thing. Not just that it'll come to visit them, but that it'll come in their hearts...

Maybe one won't live in winter forever, but one's heart can.

True... true, that.

Phew...

You can hand me that flower... Wil.

Oh... okay, okay!

Stroking its soft petals, Saileach pinches the paper flower in her fingers, gives it a few turns, then nestles it by her ear, and as if out of bashfulness, lightly lowers her head.

They're silent, for a while. Finally, she lifts her head, and looks her colleague in the eye.

What do you think?

Huff... so cold...

Good—good morning, Miss Saileach.

G—Good morning, young miss, did you...?

I folded that flower on your head yesterday... I'm—um, I'm really happy you're wearing it today...

Oh, this flower was from you? Thank you, it's very beautifully folded. I love it a lot.

That's really amazing, thank you... Miss Saileach, can—can I touch your hair?

Of course, of course you can.

Your hair's sooo so pretty. My ma used to have really long hair just like you, but they cut it off after she got sick...

I'm sure she can grow her hair out again once she's better, and when she does, it'll be even prettier than mine.

Um, that's going to be a really really long time away, Ma's never... gotten any better... It's been making Da really sad.

Don't worry, you never know—once spring arrives next year, she might perk right up. Then you can take her to the park, and fold some real living flowers. I'm sure nestled in her long hair, they'll look wonderful.

Nobody's hair grows that quickly...

That's okay, I'll come along with you then, and she can borrow some of mine...

Borrow?

Saileach lifts up her hair, and lets it drape over the girl's head. A sea of golden blonde wraps around her, sheltering her.

A lock that falls into her hands is gripped, then once more let go.

Realizing how nervous the girl is, Saileach plucks the paper flower that adorns the side of her own head, and places it by the girl's ear.

In an instant, the girl flushes red.

Am—am I pretty, Miss Saileach?

You are. You're very pretty.

Ema, I'm done giving your daddy a trim, it's your turn now to... Oh, Miss Saileach... Can I help you two?

Um... is that you, Da?

Seeing her father come out from behind the door, the flustered girl brushes Saileach's hair away from her head, and the white flower nestled in her ear is swept off onto the floor in her panic.

But unexpectedly, her father does no more than give her cheek a light caress, after which he picks the flower up, and puts it back safely in her hands.

Bet you got bored waiting. Cold?

I wasn't bored! And I'm not cold.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning, Miss Saileach...

Um... Miss Saileach... It's looking like I won't have time the next few days, so about your haircut, well... you'll probably have to wait a bit longer for that.

Ah, Miss Saileach... are—are you cutting your hair?

No.

You aren't?

Yes, I've changed my mind...

So, how about you, Ema...?